Time Flies
by River Child
Summary: Despite what the movies portray, travelling through time is not easy, nor are the participants willing.
1. Nothing Out of the Extraordinary

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or property of Aladdin. All of them belong under the rights of Disney, save my OOCs, which belong to me.

Warnings: Supernatural and physical violence, heavy drug use, heavy language, heavy sexual content, rape, magic, multiple deities mentioned, slight religious or culture bashing, and tons of Rasoul bashing. Hopefully, there will be comic relief along with the drama. Still, don't like, don't read, simple as that. Also, this is my first Aladdin fic.

Summary: Unlike the various movies you see about a group of people traveling to the past, being in the past is not easy. Also, the participants do not volunteer in such a journey and it is more of that seemingly elusive thing: destiny. Enter Nashwan Aden Hassan and her caravan of extraordinary friends that are trying to put their lives back on track, until the Fates (literally) decide to have them smack dabbed in 9th Century C.E., Agrabah, Saudi Arabia and meet one of the most famous heroes of the 1,001 Nights. However, the tale does not end there nor is all happiness as there is as always, drama. Nashwan is kidnapped and thrown into the harsh hands of Mozenrath and thus more drama continues…

Anyways, with all that said, read on! And please forgive me for the corny chapter title.

Chapter One: Nothing Out of the Extraordinary

It is very much known that the most unlikely people can and do climb to attain success, wealth, or ultimate contentment. From the most unfortunate person residing in the grimiest slums, to the poor souls that have been proclaimed 'outcasts', or deviants in their societies, everyone has a chance of suddenly living through the desires of their hidden and wildest dreams.

This famous verity has been proven accurate and obviously implied by the various cultures of the ancient world. Tales of one single human's ascent from modest origins to worldly renown and decadent riches delighted the minds of the readers and listeners. Such stories caused one's mind to soar beyond the borders of their creative thought and ventured to muse. Thus, the most known stories of these accounts such as Ali Baba and Aladdin gained fame.

Though Ali Baba inspired others with the ideas of easily accessed wealth and advised the not-so wise to be careful with who you deal with, the spectacular tale of Aladdin never ceased to intrigue readers or listeners with love and magic. It also reminded them that they, the considered 'anonymous' human beings have a possibility of luxuries and an escape from unsatisfactory beginnings.

Even now, a caravan of childhood companions that are about to be completely reunited, are about to obtain this luck of promising fates. Though, this particular narrative does not begin by an obvious opportunity to wealth with the aid of a shifty shaman. Nor does a simple count of three rubs of a dinghy lamp do this grand parable takes place.

Also, this certain band of young men and women are not what any critical high society would identify as 'virtuous' and would easily dub them as 'miscreants'. There are no perfect heroes or heroines in this tale.

It is then with this odd assemblage of imperfect young adults that this story begins. Not with a quest of a seemingly useless thing, or the consent of a magical being.

The tale begins with the frightening vision of one of the friends, a young woman, named Nashwan Aden Hassan (1).

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Multiple beads of perspiration dribbled down the lovely bronze yet troubled face of the resting nineteen-year old. It is again, one of those horrid nights of horrid nightmares, which forces Nashwan to be unable to sleep. Moans of discomfort and fear and constant moves in the queen-size bedstead displayed her state of dreamy distress. Her tiny and curvy body convulsed tremendously as the horrific visions played before her…

_Shade of crimson blood rippled beneath her feet. As if the sight was not terrifying enough, it began to ascend from its current level above her ankles and quickly to her knees and continued its way up. _

_Drowned in such fright, Nashwan made many hysterical struggles. Alas, no avail, as the blood-water increased its pace immensely, and it was not long before—to her complete horror—her head was completely submerged in it._

_Still refusing to acquiesce to defeat, the frightened maiden began to swim upwards in order to escape the bloody depths. She persisted to do so, until she heard metal clattering and things suddenly squeezed her wrists and ankles tightly and prevented any more movement. _

_Nashwan was not given enough time to solve the identity of the mysterious restraints for she took notice of her setting and apprehended she was no longer plunged in life-fluid, but was floating in the air. In an air of crimson nothingness, chained like a sacrificial virgin. _

_Before the woman could look over her appearance more intensely, her shock increased ever more as unwelcoming hands ran over her body. They groped and harshly kneaded her breasts in a manner of testing weight. These touches completely driven away any will to fight within her and rendered her still and silent. The hungry hands then traveled down to a destination she certainly did not want them to find…_

_Finally, finding enough fire within her to light the candle of rage, she cried: "Stop!" And she battled against the perverse hands with all the ferocity she had with her ever since she came into the world. _

_However, and much to her dismay, the hands did not cease in their search and malicious laughter echoed terribly in her ears. The more she, the fiery one resisted, the more the laughter continued and the hands seem victorious as it reached the forbidden place…as she felt icy and emotionless touches ghost over her clitoris…_

And that was it. She could not handle anymore, and let out a shrill scream… 

The horror-stricken female's body collided with the cream-colored carpet of her bedroom with a hard thud, which instantly resurrected her from that twisted dream.

With swift reflexes, the woman sat up from her fallen position to fish under her mattress and pulled out her switchblade. She instantly flipped the blade open and was on her feet. Terrified copper eyes cautiously searched every corner of the expansive room while her hand held the switchblade in a warning manner; ready to slash off any close limbs of the assaulter. Fortunately (for her sakes), Nashwan did not catch any sighting of any hidden intruder. Though, she did scanned all of her room again to assure herself, before she flicked her trusty blade close and placed it back in its respective place.

Nashwan's brown orbs darted over to her clock that resided on top of her nightstand to check the time.

_10: 23_, the digital numbers of the clock said. She slept a lot longer than she usually intended.

The half Arabian and Egyptian nineteen-year old girl probed every bit of her mind to look over all the significant rendezvous and stops she had to make today, in order to have them locked in her memory, and luckily, she did not have to work today. Which of course, she is grateful for, as she will be burdened with this dream of hers that have been plaguing her mind, once again, as it has for many weeks, causing her to function so badly, and affect her and the people in her life.

'Maybe I should tell the others 'bout this' she mentally suggested, but she quickly dismissed the idea.

Nashwan Hassan let a breath of stress as she ran her fingers through her raven waist-length unfettered tresses as she made her way to bathroom that was across from the bed. As she sauntered her way to the washing room, coppery eyes glanced to the small balcony, and saw a huge crow perched on the edge, meeting her gaze with piercing jet-black eyes.

Nashwan immediately made her way to the bird to shoo it off, but before she could do anything, the bird flew off. Astounded by the bird's quick departure and presence on the balcony, she could do nothing but stare at the retreating form of the crow.

"What the hell…?" she trailed off, as she felt something slightly tickled her bare foot and glanced down and saw a black feather left by the bird. She picked up the stray feather and shrugged her shoulders, before giving the blue Pennsylvania sky another look and returning to inside her house.

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Sweaty and clammy fingers pulled the coarse fabric closer to a pale beige cheek. Air that was exhaled was transformed into visible mists that danced around in front of the face.

Deep brown eyes lined in smudged kohl darted left and right to search for possible threats lying in the darkness, while concealed ears were in tune to hear danger too. When nothing was not heard or seen, the figure hiding in the shadows on the side of a crumbling house, decided to make dangerous and scurry across the bare and lit up path. When the hidden form managed to get across to the other side, it slowly journeyed through the darkness of the alley.

Finally and literally, there was a light at the end, however the figure chose to be precautious. The cloaked head peeked from the shadows and glanced up at a pole that contained a glowing blue crystal. Seeing luminescent light emanating from the mineral revived memories, which caused the brown eyes to glare at the crystal for a brief second before turning their attention to two massive doors across from the crystal.

Taking two last wary looks across the bare and empty streets, the figure seized the chance and quickly ran to the doors that was going to allow return to the outside world…

Sharp coldness seized the figure's slender ankle. The cloaked figure let out a high-pitched shout of revulsion and anger as two pair of hands tightly gripped both arms. The figure did not need to look at both sides to recognize the captors.

Sounds of tsking were heard and claps of sarcastic applause slightly echoed throughout the empty city. Finally, a male baritone voice, _his _voice spoke, "I congratulate you, Ayla (2). You manage to set forth in your goal and almost complete it. I never expected you to favor a harder task and risk death. Well, more gruesome death."

The two hands forced the cloaked figure known as Ayla to turn around. Her half hidden brown eyes held chocolate fires of hatred as they gazed at the handsome pale face smeared with a malicious smirk.

The young man waved his hand in a commanding gesture. "Remove the hood. I want to see your pretty face before I blow it right off of you, my moonlight."

As the mamluks ripped off the hood off Ayla and curly tresses of deep brown framed her heart-shaped face, her brown depths reflected more hatred that could ever be conjured within the heart of human being. "As you wish, my jackal. I rather choose death than be imprisoned in that accursed Citadel again."

Mozenrath chuckled. "But then you will never see your beloved Cyprus again. Oh, of course you favor death. You want to join that precious babe of yours whose life death claimed and squeezed…or rather you did that."

"Better for my child's spirit to roam in the realm of spirits than have him live a life with a devil of a father."

Mozenrath placed a hand over his chest and feigned a hurt expression. "Oh! So now I'm a devil! Well, good for you to change description for me because I'll show what a devil I can be!"

Mozenath's gloved hand glowed with a frightening combination of black and blue flames that increased more by the moment and the flames appeared to become more intense and hungry. The mamluks released Ayla and stepped away from her. The Cyprian woman tilted her chin up and brown eyes bravely stared at the raised gloved hand and death that she soon welcomed.

Mozenrath tightened his gauntlet and took one final look at the crimson pool of blood flowing from the corpse of his former consort, staining the pale blue sand of his kingdom. The young sorcerer grimaced; she would have been a good slave had she not been in such a melancholic mood all throughout the months she spent in his kingdom and did not constantly make an attempt to defy him, when she was not really powerful. Oh well, she did her part, but Mozenrath was unsuccessful, but he can always find another one.

An unexpected squawk caused the wizard to glance up. A reddish-brown hawk was gazing down at him, perched at the edge of a rooftop of one of the houses. The bird's gray eyes never wavered as they stared down at him. For the first time in his life, Mozenrath was unsettled by such a deep gaze, and by a bird no less. However, he shook the feeling off and scolded himself for being ridiculous to feel uncomfortable because of some bird.

Mozenrath ripped his black eyes away from the predatory animal and walked away from it and the cadaver, a satiated smirk set on his features.

End of Chapter One

Author's Notes:

(1) For those of you that are curious, Nashwan means 'ecstatic happiness' in Arabic and Aden means 'fire'. And Hassan is a male Arabic name that means 'Who makes beauty.' Yeah, so basically, her whole name means 'Who makes beauty, fire and ecstatic happiness'

(2) Ayla is Turkish and means 'moonlight.' When I looked up names of Cyprus, the site said that most Cyprian names were either Turkish or Greek. I don't know if they were right or not. Please contact me if I have wrong information.

So what ya think? Was it good? Was it bad? Does it need improvements? Should I continue or should I not continue? Please R&R, this is my first Aladdin fanfic. Thank you for reading.


	2. Through Time and Back

Hey peeps, I'm back with another chapter. And I decided to continue with the story. Also I apologize for the introduction, but I felt as thought it was necessary to have it in there. Once again, I will say that I do not any of the characters of Aladdin or the Aladdin series and the movie. They belong under the copyright of Disney.

But with that aside, continue in your reading.

Chapter Two: Through Time and Back

_The unseen hands were merciless upon her flesh as their groping touches scorched her skin as they kneaded her breasts. They were relentless as they took an impatient journey to that destination that seized her breath_.

_During her assault, cruel and ice-cold laughter echoed in the crimson air. As though they took malicious delight in her fright and disgust…_

"_Nashwan…_" _hissed a voice too light and soft for her to detect any identity in it and thus she ignored it._

"_Nashwan…" the voice became a bit louder yet Nashwan still proceeded in her struggle against her bonds._

"_Nashwan…" the voice now had a gender, which was feminine and revealed a hint of irritation in it._

_Once again the hands reached and ghosted over the forbidden and hidden place that was part of a valley that bring forth life and give a man satisfaction…_

"Nashwan! Snap out of it you silly child!" A shrill voice heavily coated with the sound of Egypt in it.

The crimson shade soon dissipated and unfocused blobs came into view that soon transformed and defined themselves into the features of a pale face of a young man that was staring at her with impatient eyes.

Nashwan confusedly blinked at the young man that was leaning on the counter. The young man cocked his head to the side as a gesture of sarcasm and waggled his black eyebrows at her. It was not an action of flirtation, but an action made to get her attention back unto her work.

"Hi there missy, welcome back," the man said with a deep baritone of a voice.

"Nashwan!" the voice that woke her from her daydream harshly whispered to her.

Nashwan turned to see her Aunt Talibah (1), her mother's younger sister, sternly looking down at her with large and piercing dark gray eyes.

"Will you please give the customer his change?"

Nashwan, still fighting the fatigue, slowly followed the order. She glanced past the man and saw a young woman staring at her with piercing blue eyes and sultry jet-black hair that trailed to her shoulders, while she placed items form a box on a shelf in the second isle of the store. Another brunette was standing close by, hanging about around the magazine stand, holding a magazine in her hands. She was blessed with lively yet slightly shaggy black locks that framed her caramel toned face and came to her chin Eyes of Chinese heritage glimmered with worry within them as they looked on the scene.

Before Nashwan followed her aunt's orders, she glanced at the curly-haired customer who shot her a heartbreaking smile that still contained the edge of impatience and sarcasm. She opened the register and took out the required change. When her bronze and slender fingers brushed against the customer's pallid and thick ones, a sharp charge surged through her arm. A hot buzzing sensation burned so intensely in her fingers, that Nashwan held her breath. She was so lost in the odd sensation that time appeared to stop and the world ceased in its spinning and she was frozen to the very spot.

Suddenly, it was as though the world began to rapidly spin as Nashwan saw before her eyes the young man leave the store backwards in very quick pace that reminded her of a tape being rewound. Afterwards, she saw everything and everyone going about in reverse in the same rapid speed that appeared to increase more and more. Finally, Nashwan could no longer make out anything in the events playing before her and just distinguish them as speeding shapes until everything came to a complete stop and everything turned into a bright white light that swallowed everything, everyone and including Nashwan in its sight.

Aunt Talibah blinked her gray eyes confusedly as she stared into the space that she knew her niece was standing in before. "Nashwan?"

Outside the store, perched on a branch on a tree that stood on an isle surrounded by concrete of the sidewalk in South Philly, was a crow that watched the befuddled and worried features of Nashwan's aunt and two friends in the store. It stayed in its perch for a couple of moments and watched the three women search frantically for the missing fourth one, before it cleaned its wings for a bit and took flight.

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A motionless body of young woman rolled on the blue marble-tiled floor. The ashy-blue skin of the cadaver horribly contrasted with the floor's hue and the rich and yellow clothes that adorned the curvy form and previously complemented it before death claimed its rich and dark skin color.

Wide and frightened black eyes stared at the lifeless form of the dead maiden, refusing to meet the impassive and penetrating gaze of the man before him. The frightened man straightened his clothes before he met the other man's black orbs.

"Umm…" the terrified man started. "H-h-h-how?"

The other and much younger male mirthlessly chuckled at the inquiry. "Oh come now Sayad (2)! You know what happened!" the man said cheerfully before the black eyes narrowed and displayed more of the black flames within them. "You brought yet another weak—beautiful—but weak woman that could not handle those rough nights and wasn't powerful as you said she is…"

"I'm telling you I thought she was strong, Lord Mozenrath!" Sayad exclaimed as he backed away when he observed Mozenrath rise from his throne. "She was the daughter of a babalawo (3), and was a healer chosen by her village's goddess!"

"Oh really? Well, I'm not interested in a dead whore's career." Mozenrath nudged the dead woman's pleasing face to side with his foot. "For some healer, she did not know how to sought her goddess' aid in escaping and did not know how to perform a simple healing spell." Mozenrath continued to study the Yoruban's features. "Shame, Itunu (4) was very bright, oh well…" he stepped over body and menacingly stared at Sayad who was the same height as him and the darker-skinned man stepped away from him further.

"P-p-please…spare me…" Sayad pathetically pleaded as he eyed the blue and black flames that engulfed Mozenrath's gloved hand.

"I am losing my patience, Sayad," Mozenrath growled as directed the glowing gloved hand at the frightened man and the blue flames sped towards him and collided into his chest, sending a wave of great pain throughout his body before he fell to the floor.

Sayad managed to sit up and his hand tightly clutched his stung chest. When he saw the sorcerer slowly making his way towards him with murder lit in his eyes, Sayad began to crawl backwards in pitiful attempts to escape another fatal blow or quite possibly the shaman's hands from reaching his neck. "Please! Show some mercy!"

Mozenrath stopped in his walk and began to laugh as though it was the funniest thing in the world. "Mercy?" the well-dressed man scoffed. "I have no mercy within me, so the only thing I'll show is excruciating pain before you die and your last memory will be seeing your blood pool around you."

"Lord Mozenrath, I'm sorry!"

"No, you are not sorry. Apology and guilt is not part of you character and you are not sorry for having the audacity to lie to me about being one of the best slavers in the world. You will not be sorry, even in the afterlife, whatever it is that you Muslims believe in. You are not sorry for receiving good payment from me and in turn you knowingly bring me of half of what I demand and demanded!" After the word, the gauntlet glowed again with the hungry blue flames that were eager to singe flesh again.

Sayad hid his face behind both of his hands and his eyes were closed tightly. A prayer sped its way out from his lips and he heard the sorcerer chuckle darkly again and the slaver dared to lift one hand to see what was occurring in front of him. Instead of seeing a stream of blue and black fire being hurled at him, he saw Mozenrath regarding him with an amused yet pondering expression set on his face and his gloved fingers were stroking his chin.

"But…" Mozenrath started. "…despite your mistakes, I'm giving you one more chance…"

Engulfed by immense relief, Sayad flung himself at Mozenrath's feet. "Oh, thank you, Lord Mozenrath! You are merciful!"

"Get off of me, you fool, " The magician kicked him off and dusted his clothes. "This is not an act of mercy on my part, more of an act of investment…"

The look of relief soon took flight from Sayad's dark face. "I-I-investment…?"

"Oh, yes." Mad and malicious delight shone in Mozenrath's black eyes. "This time you will have to find someone fitting my requirements. I don't care where you get them from, they can be from the ends of the earth for all I care. But, if you fail, you pay the price with your life. After all, you said yourself, and I will so repeat plainly and with delight: 'I swear with my life, I am the best slaver in the world and I will bring you a jewel for all ages!'"

Once all the terms were said, all the blood from Sayad's face was drained and his fingers were itching to get to his dagger that was concealed beneath his garb and cut his tongue.

End of Chapter Two

Author's Notes:

(1) Talibah is an Egyptian female name and it means 'seeks knowledge.'

(2) Sayad is an Arabic male name and means 'hunter'.

(3) The high priest of the Yoruban Orisha religion or what is now known in modern times as the Afro-Cuban religion called _Santería_ that originated from southwestern Nigeria, which combines the traditions of Catholicism and the magical rites of the Yorubas.

(4) Itunu is a Yoruban female name that means 'Consolation.'

I have to say, I expected to take longer time with this chapter, but then again I was kinda in a rush, because I have another story that needs another chapter that has to be added because I took a while to write it. But, anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please review.


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